


Stuck In The Middle With You

by flawedamythyst



Category: Marvel
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Beta/Beta, Clint Barton as Captain America, M/M, Minor Natasha Romanov/Sam Wilson, Minor Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, relationship dramas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:26:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23085481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawedamythyst/pseuds/flawedamythyst
Summary: “Fucking alphas and omegas,” said Clint.Bucky nodded in agreement. “Always so much fucking drama.”Clint stared down at his coffee, feeling his shoulders slump. Was it too much to ask to have a living area that wasn't regularly flooded with sex fluids?Being the only beta on a team of alpha and omegas meant being surrounded by far more pheromones, relationship dramas and sexual tension than Clint could really handle. And then Bucky joined, and he finally had another beta to roll his eyes at when it all got a bit much.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 101
Kudos: 662
Collections: Winterhawk Bingo





	Stuck In The Middle With You

**Author's Note:**

> Massive love to Nny for betaing and coming up with a title, and to CB for brainstorming this idea with me in the first place.
> 
> Written for my Winterhawk Bingo square of Cap!Clint/WS!Bucky.

“I wouldn’t sit there if I were you,” said Bucky and Clint immediately froze in place, then straightened up and backed away from the sofa.

“Oh no,” he said, “not again.”

Bucky was curled up in an armchair by the window with a book in his lap. He shrugged at Clint. “Steve and Tony made up. It got pretty messy.”

Clint groaned. Steve and Tony had been engaged in one of their many fights for the last couple of days, and he knew from bitter experience that those tended to ends with a round of sex that usually left breakages in their wake, not to mention all the fluids. And, god, there was always so much fluid. 

“Those fucking assholes,” he said. “Last time they promised they’d take it straight to their room.”

“Yeah, apparently they were just ‘in the moment’,” said Bucky, dropping the book into his lap to make quote marks with his fingers. “I don’t know what to tell you, man.”

Clint stared down at the sofa. Now that he was looking, he could see the wet stains slowly drying in place. “JARVIS, please tell me the cleaners are coming.”

“It was suggested that it might be better to dispose of it and get a new one instead,” said JARVIS. “That will be delivered in a couple of hours.”

“Great,” said Clint. He took his coffee over to the armchair next to Bucky’s and settled down in it. “Maybe we should be thinking about getting one of those plastic-covered couches that old folks have.”

Bucky shook his head. “If it’s wipe-clean, they’ll take that as permission.”

Clint winced. “Ugh, yeah. Hey, JARVIS, next time they start fucking in a public area, can you just play a foghorn at them or something?”

“I’m afraid Mr Stark has put in place a protocol which means I am unable to interrupt his intimate moments with Captain Rogers,” said JARVIS, and he did sound genuinely sorry about it.

“I told Steve that if it happened again, I’d go to the papers and tell them some of the stupid shit he did when we were kids,” offered Bucky, like a consolation.

Clint considered that. “Think it’ll work?”

Bucky sighed. “No.”

He and Clint exchanged looks of mutual weariness.

“Fucking alphas and omegas,” said Clint.

Bucky nodded in agreement. “Always so much fucking drama.”

Clint stared down at his coffee, feeling his shoulders slump. Was it too much to ask to have a living area that wasn't regularly flooded with sex fluids?

No one had told him when he'd joined an elite superhero team that they’d spend as much time dealing with all this relationship bullshit as they did battling bad guys. Most of the other agents at SHIELD had been betas as well, so things had been pretty calm on that front there. Natasha had been the odd one out then, the omega who fought to prove herself just as capable of keeping her mind on the job as the rest of them.

And then the two of them had joined the Avengers, and suddenly Clint was the one in the minority.

Tony and Steve’s dramatic and messy love affair was only the start of it. Apparently Asgardian alphas went into ruts, which had proved to be even worse than dealing with the omegas' heats. Clint had been eating his lunch the first time Thor had presented himself naked in the communal sitting room, spread his arms wide to showcase his erection and announced that he was, ‘happy to mate with any and all who were willing.’

Clint hadn't finished his lunch. Instead, he'd run all the way to SHIELD headquarters and begged Fury for a mission, any mission, and not gone back for at least two weeks. He had no idea which, if any, of his teammates had taken Thor up on his offer, and he never wanted to know.

Bruce, on the other hand, had been so private about that kinda thing that for ages Clint had assumed he was also an beta, right up until JARVIS unexpectedly announced that Bruce was in the second day of his heat and his vital signs were indicating severe distress.

Clint had kept out of that one as well, leaving it to Natasha and Tony to go down to him while Steve and Thor left the building to avoid their alpha pheromones making things worse. It had all ended up working out fine and Natasha and Tony were able to get Bruce sorted out and settled without Hulk coming out, thank god. No one wanted to find out what a Hulk heat was like.

Except, of course, that being that close to Bruce's heat had triggered both Natasha's and Tony's, and ever since then they’d all been on the same cycle. Having half the Avengers on heat leave all at the same time was just bad scheduling, no matter which way you cut it, and that was without factoring in that Steve stayed with Tony for his heat and so wasn't available for fights then either.

By the time Bucky had turned up and Steve had asked the others if he could join the team, Clint had been so grateful to see another beta that he’d nearly started weeping with relief.

“Want to go to that pizza place tonight?” asked Bucky. “I figure Steve and Tony are going to be holed up until tomorrow morning now.”

Clint nodded, because Steve and Tony’s sex marathons were just a fact of life now. “Yeah, sounds good. We can watch a movie after.”

“Something with beta main characters,” said Bucky.

“Definitely,” agreed Clint. “No romantic dramas, just some bad guys getting blown up or something.”

Bucky smiled at him in agreement, and Clint grinned back, once again thanking all his lucky stars that there was another beta around now to be a sane voice amongst all the hormonal craziness that went on around them.

****

The Avengers had a team movie night most weeks. They'd started doing it back when the team was new and everyone had been cautious and unsure of the others, and Tony and Steve in particular had spent most of their time sniping at each other.

These days, Tony snuggled into Steve’s arms for the evening, grinning smugly at everyone and getting distracted making out with him halfway through the movie. Unless they were having one of their many, many arguments, in which case they’d still sit on the same damn sofa, because god forbidden they should try and avoid the drama of sitting right next to each other while Tony refused to speak to Steve and Steve kept hissing little comments at him about how he was being unreasonable. More than once, they’d resolved their issues halfway through the evening and dived into making out that had verged into heavy petting before they’d disappeared off to their room.

Which, of course, spread around enough pheromones for everyone else to make excuses to leave with their own partners, or just for a suspiciously-timed shower. Everyone except Clint, and now Bucky, because they had no idea there were any pheromones until everyone else had started disappearing. 

Over the years, plenty of alphas and omegas had tried to commiserate with Clint that his sense were too dull to be able to tell someone’s designation, or if an omega was about to go into heat, but he’d only ever been relieved that he missed out all the sexual subtext that everyone else seemed to be tuned into. He never wanted to know the reason he was horny was because he'd breathed in Steve and Tony's stank.

Clint had originally shared a sofa with Natasha but after Sam had joined the team, and he and Natasha had started their weird, awkward mating dance, she'd moved to sit with him. Unless she was feeling too smothered by the existence of an alpha who was interested in a relationship with her, in which case she went to Azerbaijan and busted a few black market weapons dealers or something. 

Either way, Clint had had a sofa to himself until Bucky turned up. Nowadays, they shared a bowl of popcorn and stoically ignored any making out together, and Clint kinda loved it.

“I don’t understand why he doesn’t just ditch the useless blonde and rebuild the farm on his own,” said Bucky.

“She’s his omega,” said Steve. “She’s the reason he’s doing it, so he can provide for her.”

“Omegas don’t need to be provided for,” said Natasha with a dangerous tone in her voice.

“Omegas in general don't, but she does,” said Clint. “She’s fucking useless, no matter what designation she is. Bucky’s right, he’d be better off alone.”

“He wants a family,” said Sam.

Bucky snorted. “He should just get a couple of dogs.”

“Yes,” said Clint, grinning at him. “Exactly. Dogs are so much better, man.” He held out a fist and Bucky rolled his eyes, but obligingly bumped it with his own.

“Typical betas,” said Tony, sounding amused.

Clint glanced over at him and raised a pointed eyebrow. “You’re hoarding cushions. Getting your pre-heat nesting instincts already?"

Tony went faintly pink and tossed away the cushion he had clutched on his lap. “Shut up,” he muttered, although Clint noticed that he kept the three other cushions tucked by his side. Damn, his heat must be getting close.

****

The next day, Clint came up from the range to find Bucky leaning against the counter in the kitchen with a mug of coffee, watching as Steve paced backwards and forwards, his hands clenched into fists.

“What’s going on?” asked Clint, heading for the coffee machine.

“Tony’s at a board meeting,” said Bucky. “So Steve’s being a drama queen.”

“Ah,” said Clint.

“It’s not drama,” said Steve. “I just- I’m _fine_ , I just know how it upsets him when they’re all assholes.”

Like a worryingly high number of corporate boards, most of the members of the Stark Industries’ board were alphas. Tony was more than used to being around large numbers of alphas after a lifetime in business and never seemed particularly bothered about it, at least not that Clint had noticed. Steve, on the other hand, had a tendency to freak out about it, especially when they started to head towards Tony’s heat.

“Tony can look after himself,” said Clint, sipping his coffee and moving to lean against the counter next to Bucky. Bucky nudged his shoulder against Clint’s and sent him a conspiratorial grin, because they both found it hilarious when Steve was like this.

“I know!” snapped Steve, thumping his hand against the wall and leaving a dent. “I know he can.”

The elevator dinged and Steve was moving before the doors opened, clearly having smelt Tony’s pheromones or whatever went on with all that mess.

“Whoa,” said Tony as Steve crowded him up against the wall, bending to press his nose against Tony's neck. “Okay, honey, I missed you too.”

“You smell like other alphas,” said Steve with a bit of a growl to his tone. “It's too strong, what the hell did they do? Spray it on you?”

“Gross,” said Tony. “It was just that the aircon wasn't working, no need to get all primeval on me.”

Steve let out an aggravated noise and Clint glanced at Bucky again, trying not to start laughing because Steve never took being told to act like a rational adult and not a hormonal teenager that well. This time, rather than getting growly or foot-stomping, he lifted his head and kissed Tony, hot and heavy enough for Clint to wince and stop watching.

He couldn't stop listening though. “Okay, baby, how about you get primeval on me after all?” said Tony in a breathless voice.

“Not in the common areas!” Bucky shouted through to them.

“Of course not!” said Tony. “Wouldn’t dream of it. C’mon, Steve, let’s- Oh, wow, okay, that’s kinda hot.”

Clint looked back to see that Steve had just picked Tony up, slinging him over his shoulder and heading off to their room.

“Bye guys,” said Tony cheerfully, giving them a little wave.

Clint put his face in his hands. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered.

“Yeah, I hear ya,” said Bucky, nudging his shoulder against Clint’s again. Clint let out a long sigh and took another gulp of coffee, leaning in to the solid warmth of Bucky’s arm.

****

The next day, everyone went into heat.

Well, Tony and Natasha went into heat, because they were the only omegas on the team now that Bruce had left, but that meant that Steve and Sam were all caught up in their alpha instincts to protect and care for them, so two thirds of the team were involved.

Tony and Steve were actually relatively easy to live with during a heat, because they just disappeared into their rooms and Steve locked and, Clint was pretty sure, blockaded the door. They didn’t come out until Tony was completely through his heat and recovered, looking flushed and glowing, and grinning like a cat that hadn’t just got the cream, but the whole damn dairy farm. It was annoying but it didn’t have much impact on Clint, so he was happy to just let them get on with it.

Natasha, on the other hand, had spent most of her life dealing with her heats alone and the only experience she had with alphas being around during them was shitty. That meant that, even though they shared a bedroom most nights, when Sam went into the usual alpha mode of trying to provide anything she might need, even without expecting more than that, she had a tendency to react badly.

Not always, and she was clearly getting better if the way she'd allowed Sam to stay in her living room for the whole of the last heat, occasionally opening the bedroom door and accepting food and drink from him, was anything to go by. It didn't take much to push her boundaries, though.

“Oh man, that looks nasty,” said Clint as Sam slunk into the main common room with a bruise on his cheek. He and Bucky were taking advantage of the quiet to use the big TV for _Call of Duty_.

“It's fine,” said Sam. “My fault.”

“You know you sound like a battered husband, right?” said Clint, and got a glare for his troubles. He lifted one hand off his controller. “I love Natasha like a sister, but if she's hitting you-”

“No,” said Sam, “she didn't. I just...she shut her bedroom door kinda fast, and I was in the way.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at him. “Were you hassling her?” he asked in a dangerous voice, because whatever shit he and Natasha had gone through together in the Red Room had left him with a protective streak a mile wide.

“No!” said Sam. “Jesus, of course not. I guess I didn't realise how far along she was, and I was just going to put some water and snacks on the nightstand for her.”

“And she shut the door on you,” said Clint.

“Yeah,” said Sam sadly, slumping onto a sofa. “She didn’t even get the snacks.”

Bucky and Clint exchanged looks, because they both knew that Natasha had a bag of heat supplies that included enough food and drink to last the best part of a month holed up behind a locked door, and if they knew that, so did Sam.

“Were they better snacks than the ones she already has?” asked Clint carefully.

Sam just shrugged. “They were _my_ snacks,” he said, then made a face when he clearly heard how that came out.

Most of the time Sam was chill enough for Clint to forget he was an alpha, and then he came out with something like that. Clint caught Bucky rolling his eyes and had to stifle a grin.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” muttered Sam. “I just like knowing I’ve done something to help her, even if she doesn’t want me there for it.”

“You’ve done plenty to help her,” said Clint, because the way Natasha had slowly come out of her shell in order to make this thing with Sam work still felt kinda miraculous sometimes. “A couple of bags of Cheetos isn’t going to change that.”

“Cheetos? Do I look like the kind of alpha that thinks Cheetos are good heat food?” asked Sam. “I made her chocolate and cranberry protein bars.”

Clint looked at Bucky only to find him already looking back, clearly thinking the same thing. Why the hell did alphas think they had to go the extra mile like that?

“She’d probably have been happy with Cheetos,” Clint offered, and got an eye-roll from Sam.

And then the Avengers alarm went off.

“Aw no,” said Clint, dropping his controller as the other two got to their feet. “JARVIS, c’mon man, tell me it’s a false alarm.”

“I’m afraid that MODOK is currently attacking Staten Island,” said JARVIS. “All available Avengers are being called to help. Including Captain America.”

Clint groaned, but obligingly got up and followed Sam and Bucky to the locker room next to the quinjet hangar.

In order to try and hide that they were several key members down when Tony was in heat and Steve was with him, JARVIS piloted Iron Man and Clint dressed in Steve’s clothes. Hawkeye was on other missions or injury leave often enough that no one remarked if he was missing, much like Natasha, but if Captain America didn't turn up to a fight, there were headlines about it the next day.

Clint hated it. Just because he was tall and blond and had shoulders that filled out the suit, he didn’t see why Bucky or Sam couldn’t have done it. Or some random SHIELD agent even, maybe. Well, probably not, throwing the shield had a bit of a trick to it that not everyone got.

“I didn’t spend decades of my life getting amazing with every weapon they put in my hands to end up throwing a shield around like an idiot,” he muttered, pulling on Steve’s suit.

“Quit whining,” said Sam. “Isn’t it every kid’s dream to be Cap?”

Clint glared at him. “Nope. I always wanted to be Bucky when me and my brother played Howling Commandos when we were kids.”

Bucky turned to stare at him, pausing in the act of fitting guns into his many, many holsters. “You did?”

Clint shrugged at him. “You were one of the few truly badass betas in the comics we read. Of course I wanted to be you.”

“Huh,” said Bucky, turning back to his locker to start pulling out knives. “I guess I never really figured myself as a role model.”

Clint pulled down Steve’s cowl and picked up the shield. “Comics back then were all arrogant alphas and omegas in skimpy costumes, using sexy in place of actually being strong. You were definitely my role model.”

The smile Bucky gave him was a little dazed, but still pretty blinding.

“Guys, come on, enough chatter,” said Sam, heading for the quinjet, and Clint tore himself away from staring at Bucky’s face to jog after him, already hating the stupid boots he was wearing. Why the fuck did Steve think this was a good combat outfit?

****

For some reason, MODOK and his minions had taken over the zoo on Staten Island. Clint had a feeling he didn’t want to know why.

When the Avengers arrived on site, Clint did his best to adopt Steve’s shoulders-first way of moving, and kept his mouth shut as they passed the police barricade, just giving a nod that he hoped looked convincingly patriotic.

Inside the zoo, there were AIM minions everywhere in their stupid yellow suits. The actual fighting was relatively easy, because MODOK had never figured out that trying to fight dressed as a beekeeper put you at a massive disadvantage. Even while trying to concentrate on fighting in Steve’s style, because the media had helicopters circling overhead and some bright spark was bound to look at the footage and notice if Captain America didn’t look right, Clint was kicking ass.

“MODOK is holed up by the aviary,” said Sam over the comms. “I can’t get to him without backup, he’s got a whole host of his minions around him.”

“What does it look like he’s doing?” asked Bucky. Clint was aware of him staying at his side, adapting his fighting style so that the Winter Soldier looked just as in sync with Clint as he always was with Steve.

“Man, I have no idea,” said Sam. “There’s some kind of machine, but it only looks half-finished.”

“Iron Man, can you do anything with it?” asked Clint.

Iron Man flew just as smoothly under JARVIS’s control as it did under Tony’s. The main difference was the lack of suicidal theatrics, but Clint didn’t think the media would notice that.

“I’m not sure,” said JARVIS. “Analysing…”

There was a pause, during which Clint flung the shield so that it bounced off one guy’s face, against a wall, and then into a second guy. Oh yeah, still the best marksman, even with a stupid not-really-a-weapon like the shield.

“I’m afraid there’s not enough of the device in place for me to extrapolate its purpose,” said JARVIS. “However, there is also nothing in it that would react badly to being shot at, exploded or otherwise destroyed.”

“Excellent,” said Clint, grabbing the shield up from the collapsed AIM minion it had come to rest on. “Guess that means it’s time for a _free-for-owl_ , guys. Everyone converge on the aviary.”

There was a chorus of groans as everyone started moving towards the aviary.

Clint caught Bucky’s unimpressed look and grinned back at him. “Okay, tough crowd,” he said, trying out one of Steve’s somersaulting feats of gymnastics before punching the next minion in the face. “ _Hawkward_.”

“Oh god, shut the fuck up, man,” said Sam. “I will shoot you.”

Clint rolled his eyes, glancing over at Bucky who was still fighting beside him. “You’re laughing, right?”

“I don’t laugh at Captain America’s jokes,” said Bucky, shooting the last AIM minion standing in the foot and kicking his gun away when he collapsed in pain. Bucky glanced over his shoulder at Clint. “Point of pride.”

“You’d laugh at Hawkeye’s though, right?” asked Clint, starting to jog towards the aviary now that the way was clear.

“Hawkeye ain’t here,” said Bucky pointedly. “But I reckon-”

He cut himself off as Clint felt the sudden burning pain across his calf, a second before he processed the sound of the gunshot. “Fuck!”

“Shit!” said Bucky and there was the sound of another gunshot, and a pained cry from the direction the first shot had come from. “Clint!”

Clint had stumbled but he was clinging to the shield, so very aware of the cameras that were probably zooming in on him from the helicopters right now. “Steve,” he corrected Bucky through gritted teeth. He glanced down and was relieved to see it was just a graze.

A deep graze, sure, and he was already bleeding more than he was really happy with, but it wasn’t about to incapacitate him and, most importantly, it was nothing that would stop Steve for a second. He straightened up, aimed a cheerful wave up at the nearest helicopter, and kept striding towards MODOK.

“You’re hurt,” said Bucky, falling in next to him with a scowl.

“Nothing that’s gonna hold me back,” said Clint. “Gotta live up to the shield, right?”

Bucky growled under his breath. “Fucking Steve,” he muttered.

“Everything okay?” asked Sam from up ahead, where Clint could already see him engaged with the AIM forces huddled around MODOK and his machine. Next to the fight was a large aviary full of birds of prey, most of whom were freaking out about being next to a firefight.

“Everything’s _im-peck-able_ ,” said Clint, and threw himself into the fight, shield-first.

It wasn’t the first time he’d fought injured, not by a long shot, and other than it hurting like a motherfuck, and the blood soaking into Steve’s pants -which Clint had a feeling Steve was gonna be mad about- it wasn’t too much of a hindrance. Okay, so he was limping a bit, and high kicks were out, but he still had the shield, still had his biceps, and still had Bucky beside him and fighting twice as hard now he was pissed.

They took out most of the minions fairly swiftly and it was JARVIS who delivered the final nail in MODOK’s coffin, sending a missile at the half-built machine. MODOK bellowed with rage and took off into the sky, and JARVIS and Sam headed after him. Clint paused to catch his breath, looking around at the downed minions.

“We killed it again, guys, good going. Avengers saved the day, yay.”

Bucky snorted. “You realise you don’t have to give one of Steve’s pep talks just cos you’re wearing the suit, right?”

Clint shrugged, trying to stand with all his weight on one leg without making it obvious that was what he was doing. “Goes with the shield, sorry.” He straightened his shoulders as the police started to venture into the area.

“Let me do the talking,” said Bucky, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. 

“Sure thing, Buck,” said Clint in his very best Steve impression.

Bucky sent him an unimpressed glare, then strode off to talk to the police chief. Clint turned back to the remains of the machine as if examining melted metal and shattered electronics was vital for the future of mankind, and not an excuse to hide his face and avoid talking to anyone.

****

When they arrived back to the Tower, Clint got himself patched up in the medical unit, then was discharged. As he shuffled off to his room for a shower and a sleep, he thought he’d been let off lightly. Usually when he got hurt, medical insisted on keeping him around much longer. Was it the effect of Captain America’s suit? Or because usually when Clint just got grazed by a bullet, he didn’t bother going at all?

Bucky hadn’t really given him that option, though. Clint hadn’t ever gone up against the Winter Soldier back in his Hydra days, but he had a feeling he knew what it would have been like now, after suggesting that maybe he could just patch himself up. For a moment he’d thought Bucky was going to stab him to make sure that he definitely ended up in medical.

The next morning, Clint found out that Bucky’s dedication to medical care didn’t end there.

“Sit your ass back down,” ordered Bucky, jabbing a finger at the couch. Clint sighed and slumped back onto it, settling his injured leg back on the cushion Bucky had put there for him before he got yelled at again. 

“I was just gonna get coffee,” he said. “If I could fight AIM with this little wound, I can make coffee.”

“The doctor said you needed to _rest_ it," said Bucky, standing up. “I’ll make the damn coffee.”

He stalked into the kitchen like he was heading into a fight, and Clint turned to look at Sam. “What the hell is that all about?”

Sam raised an eyebrow, clearly trying not laugh. “Looked like a little beta drama to me.”

Clint rolled his eyes. “Betas don’t do drama. We leave that to you guys and the omegas.”

“Sure,” said Sam, still sounding more amused than Clint was okay with.

“Sergeant Wilson,” said JARVIS, “Miss Romanov has requested your presence in her rooms.”

Sam perked up like a dog who’d seen pizza. “For real?”

“Yes,” said JARVIS. “She said that she is through the worst of her heat now and would appreciate some company.”

“Aw, hell yes,” said Sam, and he was gone before Clint could blink.

Clint tipped his head back against the stack of cushions he’d arranged for himself. It had only been two days since Natasha’s heat had started, she wouldn’t be that far over it yet. That she’d asked for Sam while she was probably still feeling vulnerable was a huge deal. Well, good for both of them, and here was hoping that it meant things would be calmer between the two of them. 

Bucky bought back coffee for them both, handing Clint his before sitting down.

“How long do you think we’ve got before the drama queens all emerge and explode emotions over the common areas again?” he asked.

Clint shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe another day? Steve likes to make sure Tony’s had plenty of sleep after, so probably tomorrow morning.”

Bucky nodded. “We better make it count then,” he said. “Wanna watch a movie without anyone making out or having a row during it?”

“Hell yeah,” said Clint, grinning at him. Bucky smiled back at him, looking deeply satisfied, and it was a moment or two before he looked away to find the remote and put the TV on.

****

They had the rest of the day to themselves, which Clint enjoyed more than he’d have figured. He and Bucky just hung out, eating way too many snacks and binge-watching movies, and it felt like having a snow day, or some kinda extended sleepover. He ended up dozing off on the sofa and only woke up to hobble back to his room because Bucky nudged him, then got up to help him stand.

The next morning, Bucky let Clint get his own coffee but when he moved towards the fridge, he shooed him in the direction of the sofa.

“I got this,” he said, pulling out a box of eggs. “Don’t damage yourself any further.”

Clint wasn’t much in the mood to argue, not when he knew Bucky was a much better cook than he was, so he went and sat down.

“JARVIS, any word on MODOK?” he asked. Iron Man hadn’t managed to catch him after the fight and Clint was all too aware that if he surfaced again before Tony’s heat was over, either they were going to have to send a team after him without either Hawkeye or Captain America on it, or Clint was really going to piss Bucky off by going to fight while injured.

“Not as yet,” said JARVIS. “I am monitoring all the usual networks.”

Bucky bought out two plates of scrambled eggs on toast. “That fucker better be hiding under a rock,” he growled, handing a plate to Clint then sitting down with his own. “What the fuck was all that bullshit about?”

Clint shrugged, tucking in to his own breakfast. “Some bullshit.”

The elevator doors pinged and Steve came out, holding Tony cradled in his arms. Tony had a white bandage wrapped around one of his feet but other than that he looked well-rested, completely relaxed and had a wide grin that Clint chose to believe was because he was pleased to see his pal Hawkeye again, and nothing at all to do with a three day sex marathon with Captain America.

“What the hell did you do to his foot, Stevie?” asked Bucky as Steve set Tony down on one of the other sofas.

“It wasn’t me,” protested Steve.

Clint lifted his bandaged calf at Tony. “Samesies,” he said. Tony rolled his eyes at him but his smile didn’t dim even one iota.

“Pal, you’ve been locked up getting up to god only knows what with the guy for three days, and then he turns up broken,” said Bucky. “What the hell else happened to him?”

“Oh god,” said Clint. “Please tell me you didn’t break the bed again.”

“Nope,” said Tony, with satisfaction. “The steel reinforcing held up this time. Go team super-genius engineer.” He pumped a fist in the air.

Clint eyed the shape of the bandage. “The nightstand?” he asked. “I still don’t want to know how the hell you cracked it last time, please don’t give me details if you did it again.”

“Not the nightstand,” said Steve with exasperation.

“Oh god, Steve,” said Bucky. “Not the shower? C’mon, man, you’ve gotta know that’s just not a safe place to be-”

“It was the lamp!” interrupted Steve. “It was just the lamp, it got knocked off the nightstand, nothing dramatic, coulda happened to anyone.”

Clint glanced at Bucky. “So, how many heats is that that they’ve managed without breaking any furniture or furnishings?”

Bucky considered. “Since I moved in? One.”

“That’s kinda poor,” said Clint, looking back at Steve. “And now you’ve upgraded to injuring each other. Should we be having an intervention?”

“Omega abuse is a big deal, Steve,” Bucky said very seriously. “Tony, don’t be afraid to speak up, this is a safe space.”

“Shut up, punk,” said Steve. He glanced at Tony. “Coffee right? You want breakfast as well?”

“Just coffee’s fine,” said Tony. “Ooh, and one of my smoothies, maybe?”

Steve snorted. “Yeah, you’re getting real food.” He pointed a finger at him. “Don’t move.”

Clint raised an eyebrow at Tony as Steve headed into the kitchen. “Bossy,” he noted. He took the last bite of his breakfast, then leaned forward to put his plate on the coffee table. Bucky took it from his hand before he could get very far and put it down for him so that Clint didn’t have to move his injured leg from where it was elevated.

“Yeah,” agreed Tony, with a note of bliss in his voice that wasn’t decent in public. “You shoulda heard him over the last few days.”

Clint winced and glanced at Bucky to see the same look on his face. “Yeah, pretty glad I didn’t.”

Bucky sat forward, his face going serious. “Tony, be serious now. Do I need to have a talk with him about super-soldier strength and inappropriate uses of it?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “I knocked the lamp over while he was fucking me so hard I was seeing stars,” he said bluntly. “Then forgot all about it when I got up to go to the bathroom, and stepped straight on broken glass. No domestic abuse here, trust me, you think the all-powerful AI in every room of my home would just let it go if Steve had hurt me? Even by accident?” He shrugged. “Heat sex is pretty intense. Shit like that just happens sometimes.”

The more Clint heard about heat sex, the less he wanted anything to do with it. “It sounds exhausting,” he said.

“Yeah,” said Tony happily, and his eyes went back to the kitchen, where Steve was heading back with a cup of coffee for him.

Clint looked back at Bucky, who offered him a faint shrug that said he didn’t get it either. Man, it was good having another beta around. Clint slumped back against the sofa, resting his shoulder against Bucky’s and kinda wishing it was just the two of them still.

****

About once a month, Tony decided that they all needed to go out for drinks and wouldn’t be dissuaded by anything less than a full-scale alien attack.

“C’mon, what’s the point of being rich and famous in Manhattan if we don’t live it up a little?”

“Most of us aren’t that rich,” Clint pointed out, and got an extremely unimpressed look.

“We’re not going to a club,” said Natasha firmly, because they’d all realised over the years that when Tony was in this mood, there was no point in fighting it. It was a much better use of energy to channel it into something that they’d all actually enjoy.

“I want a pool table,” said Clint.

“Beer on tap,” added Sam.

“Nowhere fancy,” said Bucky. “I’m not dressing up.”

Tony let out a long sigh and glanced at Steve, who leaned in to press a kiss to his lips, then said, “I think we should head to Brooklyn.”

Tony let out a groan. “Of course you do,” he said. “Fine, fine, let’s go find some shitty bar for us to spend a few hours in pretending no one’s gonna recognise Captain America if he’s wearing a hat.”

“Maybe if it was a cowboy hat,” said Natasha, eyeing Steve with consideration.

Bucky snorted. “Hey, Stevie, remember-”

“Okay, we have a plan then,” interrupted Steve, talking over him. “Everyone meet back here in fifteen minutes, ready to go? Good, great, no need for any more talking then.”

Clint caught Bucky’s eye as they all wandered off to their rooms to grab jackets and raised an eyebrow. Bucky gave him a smirk and a faint nod that meant he would definitely be telling Clint the story later.

The bar they went to was dimly lit and they took over a corner table and kept their backs to the room, hats pulled down low, and every single asshole in the place knew exactly who they were, because there was nothing subtle about Tony Stark or Steve Rogers.

Still, it was Brooklyn, and it wasn’t like they were doing anything interesting, so they got left alone. Clint and Bucky played a few games of pool, then doubles against Sam and Natasha who they wiped the floor with.

“Okay, I’m done,” said Sam, after the third consecutive defeat. “I didn’t come here to be humiliated.”

“And yet that’s what happened,” said Bucky, twirling his cue and grinning at him.

“Can’t believe a big strong alpha let a couple of boring old betas beat him like that,” added Clint. “And in front of his omega, too.”

Sam snorted. “Yeah, I’m not that kind of alpha,” he said, putting his cue down. “I don’t need to beat everyone at everything. All I need to know I’m winning at life is for Natasha to keep choosing to be with me.”

“Oh dude,” said Clint, shaking his head, but Natasha was giving Sam the quietly pleased smile that meant they’d be slipping off together soon.

They stayed long enough for another round, at any rate, all of them sitting around the table together. Clint was next to Steve, so he took his chance to try and talk to him about his suit.

“Look, I’m just saying, maybe stripper boots aren’t the best idea,” he said. “Maybe we should try actual combat boots. With space for me to tuck a couple of knives and a gun down them.”

“They’re not stripper boots,” said Steve, “Captain America doesn’t carry a gun, and, Clint, this is very important so pay attention: There’s no _we_ when it comes to my suit. I’m the only one who gets a say.”

“Well, and me,” said Tony. He ran his hand over Steve’s arm, pausing to squeeze his bicep. “And I like the stripper boots.”

Steve let out a tired sigh. “They’re not stripper…”

He trailed off, sniffing a couple of times, then he turned to stare at the door. Clint looked around to see Sam doing the same and then, a moment later, Tony and Natasha as well.

He followed their eyes to see a guy in skintight jeans and a white tank top had come in and was paused in the doorway, looking around at the bar with a smug look on his face. Every single alpha in the place was looking back.

“Oh man,” muttered Bucky. “Here we go.”

The guy sauntered over to the bar then turned to lean back on it, looking around again. “There’s not room in these jeans for a wallet,” he said, pointedly and half the alphas staring at him started forward, feeling for their own wallets. The guy didn’t wait for any of them to get to him. Instead he looked directly at a tall woman further down the bar and raised an eyebrow. “Any chance you’d buy an omega a drink?”

She smiled slowly, looking him over. “Of course,” she said, and signalled the bartender.

The other alphas all sat back down with a sigh, and gradually the conversations in the room started up again.

“Damn, I can’t believe he came out when he’s so close to going into heat,” said Sam.

“ _I_ can’t believe you were staring at him like that,” said Natasha.

“Oh, come on,” said Sam. “Anyone’s going to want to look around when a smell that strong comes over.”

“He does smell good,” agreed Steve, then hastily added, “but not as good as Tony, obviously.”

“Obviously,” muttered Tony, sliding a possessive arm around Steve’s waist.

Clint snorted. “Oh sure. Engine oil and overpriced hair gel.”

“That’s not how it works,” said Steve. “People don’t smell like the things they do, they smell like who they are.”

That made absolutely no sense, but the rest of the table were all nodded in agreement so Clint turned to Bucky, who just shrugged at him. “Guess that means you’re pizza and cheap beer then,” he said.

Clint considered that. “There are worse things to be.”

Over at the bar, the omega had pretty much downed his drink, and was now letting the alpha lead him out of the room with an arm around his shoulders, smirking at the other alphas in the room.

“No, it’s like…” said Steve, then he stopped to consider. “Objectively speaking, Tony smells like pomegranates overlaid with pine and a hint of bubblegum, but it’s more than that. It’s his essence.”

“Pal, that sounds horrible,” said Bucky. He glanced at Tony. “No offence, man, but if that’s your essence, you’ve got problems.”

“It’s not bubble-bubblegum,” said Sam, looking at Tony and taking a breath, “it’s spicier than that.”

Clint frowned at him, then looked back at Tony, who didn’t seem in the slightest insulted by that analysis. “You guys are fucking with us,” he said.

“Nope,” said Tony, and shrugged. “I guess it’s like describing colours to a blind person, the vocabulary isn’t there.”

“Oh fuck you,” said Clint, leaning in towards Bucky to feel some beta solidarity. “It sounds gross, anyway, wandering through a world where one omega getting near his heat can stink up a whole bar.”

“Yeah, that was a bit much,” said Sam. “I guess he just left it a bit late to find a partner.”

“Those two are going to be having some crazy mad sex tonight, though,” said Tony. “That more than makes up for all the smells.”

Bucky shrugged. “Not sure any sex is worth that.”

“That’s because you’ve only ever had beta sex,” said Steve, and both Clint and Bucky glared at him.

“I’ve been with both omegas and alphas,” Bucky said.

“Me too,” said Clint. “And Bucky’s right. It’s great, but it’s not really three days of bubblegum stink great.”

Tony shook his head. “I’ve had sex with betas,” he said. “And you’re right, it’s great, but it’s not mind-blowing. It’s like...rainy Sunday afternoon sex, you know? But heat sex, or even any sex with an alpha, is more like New Year’s Eve. Fireworks and drama and questionable life choices, followed by a mess you’re never going to regret making.”

“That goes for sex with another omega as well,” put in Natasha, which made everyone turn to stare at her. She just gave them a quiet smile. “As long as the pheromones are there, so’s the excitement.”

“And the mess,” added Clint, thinking about just how sodden the sheets would get with two omegas producing slick all over the place. He made a face. “I think I’ll stick to Sunday afternoons, thanks.”

New Year’s Eve was always a bit noisy and crowded for him, anyway.

Tony shrugged. “We’re all made differently,” he said, philosophically, then waggled his eyebrows at Steve. “Hey, wanna go make the ball drop?”

Steve just stared at him for a moment, until Tony waggled his eyebrows again.

“Only if you never call it that again,” he said, standing up.

And so the evening ended much like they always did, with the couples heading home to fuck, and Clint and Bucky heading back to the pool table for another match.

****

The next afternoon Clint got a craving for hotdogs, the kind that probably didn’t contain any pork and would definitely give him acid reflux.

“C’mon, just out to the park, there’s a cart right by the gate,” he said to Bucky, and it was only after Bucky had rolled his eyes but gone to get his jacket that Clint realised he hadn’t even considered going without him, but he also hadn’t thought about asking anyone else. When had he started assuming he’d be spending all day every day with Bucky?

“Do you want to come?” he asked Natasha, who was settled with a cup of tea and a SHIELD briefing. 

She snorted. “I loathe hotdogs,” she pointed out.

Clitn shrugged. “It’s a nice day out, and there's an ice cream truck there as well.”

She fixed him with a long look, and raised one eyebrow. “You don’t really want me to come,” she said, in an entirely too-knowing tone. “You like it when it’s just you and Bucky.”

Clint frowned, and was slowly realising just how true that was when Bucky came back. “Hey, want to swing by that new coffee place on the way back?” Bucky asked. “We haven’t had a chance yet.”

 _We._ Because when Clint went out for coffee now, Bucky was either with him or Clint brought him one back to the Tower. Maybe Natasha was on to something.

Something he could think about later, because hotdogs were the priority right now. “Yeah, sounds good,” he said, heading for the elevator. 

It really was a nice day outside, so after they’d got a couple of hotdogs they strolled slowly through the park, watching the tourists staring around them as if they’d never seen trees before, joggers in gear that Clint was pretty sure cost more than his entire wardrobe and all the rest of the mess of people that used Central Park.

“Oh, hey,” said Bucky, “Steve and Tony worked out what MODOK was up to.”

“Oh yeah?” asked Clint, looking away from a gang of teenage alphas showing off their skateboarding tricks for a handful of unimpressed omegas.

“Apparently he thought he could create a mind control device that would work on the birds.”

Clint considered that as he chewed on his hotdog. “He wanted an army of hawks?”

“Sure,” said Bucky. “And falcons and eagles and the rest.”

Clint snorted. “And instead he got taken out by a hawk and a falcon. What a dick.”

“You remember me and Iron Man being there, right?” asked Bucky, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Sure,” agreed Clint. “You guys helped, I guess. A bit.”

He finished his hot dog and chucked the empty tray in the nearest trash can, on top of a crumpled bunch of flowers with a card that just said ‘sorry’.

“You’re such a dick,” said Bucky with an edge of amusement in his voice. He chucked his rubbish after Clint’s and they carried on walking, close enough that their shoulders bumped together a couple of times before Bucky looped his arm around Clint’s shoulders.

A couple were making out on a blanket on the grass, getting hot and heavy enough that Clint could see a small wet patch forming on the omega’s pants. A few feet beyond them, another couple were having a hissed row, their words not loud enough to hear but all the anger spilling over into sharp hand gestures.

Clint put his arm around Bucky’s waist, sinking his hand into the back pocket of his jeans and thought about how there just always seemed to be so much drama in other people’s relationships. As he watched, the alpha of the arguing couple backed the omega up against a tree and they started making out with as much furious passion as they had put into their fight.

God, he was so glad to be well out of that.

Bucky stopped walking, pulling Clint around to look at him. “Hey,” he said, and there was a soft note to his voice that Clint hadn’t heard before. “Would it be okay if I kissed you, or am I way off base?”

Clint’s gaze flicked down to Bucky’s lips, and he thought about how steady and easy things always were with him, calm in a way he didn’t recognise from any of the alpha/omega relationships he’d watched develop over the years. “Yeah, I reckon it must be past time for that,” he said and was rewarded by a slow grin from Bucky.

When their lips met, it was just as easy as everything else between them had always been. Clint wrapped his arms around Bucky’s shoulders and let his eyes fall shut as their mouths moved together, then pulled away to rest his forehead against Bucky’s.

“Let’s skip the coffee shop and just head home,” said Bucky.

“And have boring beta Sunday afternoon sex?” asked Clint, feeling a thrill of excitement travelling down his body, right to his toes.

Why hadn’t Clint properly noticed before how Bucky’s smile made his eyes light up? “Exactly that.”

Clint grinned back at him. “Sounds like just what I want.”


End file.
